The Silent Project
by Jared Head
Summary: One line of code can change millions. Morales become irrelevant. Silence is golden, but yelling is platinum. Tell him exactly what he wants to hear, and your chances are better. Jorcy Black is in too deep, and he is the only one that can save himself.


**Did you miss me?**

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><p><em><strong>The Silent Project<strong>_

**A work of Digimon Fan-Fiction**

**By Jared Head**

**+0**

**Whenever I Wake Up**

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><p>"There is, and will forever be, an acceptable amount of risk inherent in every single action you perform. Be it a long-range Fire Rocket attack of something as simple as breathing, everything is dangerous."<p>

"So what are you telling me? That you think this extraction is an undertaking that is easy for you?"

"No, as I said, I understand the risk. I am absolutely willing to lay life and limb on the line for this."

"It would be much easier if our target had an awareness of the situation beforehand."

"As Kaida did?"

"Yes. The shock of you being there may simply be too much."

"I would then use a method as non-threatening as possible. I do believe my factors of intimidation could be dropped for this."

"Pardon me Flame, but I am of the opinion that you are rather intimidating just on your own, no matter how well you smile," he sighed, "If you insist. You know I am not a fan of a large group, but if you think he would make a positive contribution, then I suggest we bring him in and make an offer. Trying is no dishonor."

"Thank you Gennai," he bowed, "I will not let you down."

"Flame" he called out, the dragon digimon turning back, "You never have before."

A vote of confidence.

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><p>"Wake up. Wake up! Wakeupwakeupwakeup!"<p>

The blinding light of the outside world piercing through the thinness of his eyelids. A one Jorcy Black was not interested in waking up, most certainly not when Summer had just began.

"It's summer recess! Which, recess meaning find a goddamn job and work your ass off to pay The Man. Gotta' pick 'dem cottons!"

He smirked, rubbing still closed eyes, "I'm no worker of The Man. The Man works for me. I'm his prostitute _and_ his pimp. Better pay up this week or I'm going to have to smack one."

"Keep up that mouth young man and I'm going to have to wash your mouth out with soap."

Another one Jet Black, "Just Jet" he'd say.

"Another business trip?"

"No actually," Jet checked his watch, I figured I'd leave you alone, take a vacation and come back with a lot of money. Have fun with your hangover! Two Excedrins and a glass of water to chase the headache away!"

"Yeah, later," he rolled back over. Not one to try and push himself any further than the situation called for, the current first world problems of a hangover would not let him sleep. He heard the door close, the car leave and the silence approach. But, alas, the alarm clock kicked in, reading the iPod correctly and pulling up the music to awaken him.

The Talking Heads, or some other trashion.

A pillow pulled over his head couldn't end the blaring music. Nor did reaching for the proper button to push.

"Christ almighty," he groaned, "Jack Daniels is not my brother anymore."

_Sure_, the bottle thought from the kitchen, _They __**all**__ say that_.

Forever done with alcohol until the next night called for it, Jorcy tossed his pillow across the room. Awake, like a comatose patient regaining consciousness for the first time, he rose. Steadily…only to plop back down on the bed. Head banging, chest fluttering, legs jiggling, butter getting hard.

On his feet, gingerly walking to the window, he slowly opened the blinds, his eyes closing. Not the smartest move of his collegiate career so far. Hardly a party animal but most certain subject to peer pressure, Uncle Jet and his high-rolling friends will push one to drink under, above and to the side of the table at the sushi bar.

A rather weak cough. It wasn't unlike him to do stupid things for stupid reasons because of stupid people, but after all, living the life, self-proclaimed badassery and the need to maintain a certain relationship amongst others. Drawbacks include not living up to that level of maintenance, and sometimes vomiting.

At present the stomach was fine, but with a turn down the hall to the bathroom, the body's gastric system reached full reverse levels. Nature took its course and Jorcy prayed to the porcelain.

_I am not immune_ were his thoughts.

Post-Roman dining experience breakfast was to be had. Cereal, milk, orange juice and an energy drink somewhere in the mix. Looking out into the garage window, he could see Jet had taken the Porsche to the airport. After all, when you're a former career racecar driver turned marginally okay businessman, you can't just drive a Prius.

"Let's turn on the news," he said, remote in hand slurping down Rice-Swirls.

"IF YOU'RE NOT OUTSIDE TODAY YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY!" the overly tanned hyperkinetic superenergetic weatherman proclaimed, "Back to you," as the cameras moved towards a middle-aged man decidedly unhappy beset between two women who's chest size was more relevant to many than the news being read.

"Murder…economic woes…death…destruction…chaos…pestilence…gerbil fashion show" was all Jorcy picked up. Post-breakfast and after turning the TV off, a shower was in order. Cleaned and freshened, he began to feel the headache and body wear slowly lingering. The advice of Jet was taken. Pain pill with a little caffeine downed. 3 hours till life anew. He turned on the computer, quickly plugging in his smartphone to charge before heading down the hall. Clothes in modern times were a must.

The ideal combination for him. White shirt of his old high school alma mater, shorts thanks to the weather and a snug jacket, black with white stripes coming down the sleeves from the shoulder and a pair of slip on shoes. Essential for every California's lifestyle. Back down the hall to sit in front of the computer.

To Google.

_**FUN**_

FUN BRAIN

FUN MUSIC

FUN TIMES

FUN SEX

"Wait what? When did this become Craigslist?" Jorcy was now confused, as the Internet had once again let him down. "Hundreds of billions of dollars and the best I can get is…children's websites. Technology, a modern marvel."

The next best thing to doing nothing was doing nothing while moving. Heading back to his room, bed unmade, to grab his iPod, he noticed something…familiar about his computer down the hall.

The internal fan whirred up to full speed. The circuits overheating rapidly. Seeing no other option, Jorcy bent down and very quickly pulled the plug on the computer, only to hear it accelerate.

"What the hell?"

In a last ditch effort to stop the computer from setting itself ablaze, into the air the tower was thrown and down to the hardwood flooring it crashed. Surely leaving a mark and shattering the computer's shell wide open.

"Shit!" Jorcy brought both hands up to his head, "Jet is…I'm dead."

That ride outside was needed. A true scheme needed to be hatched. Grabbing his car keys, he headed out, leaving the shattered remains behind, missing the light thump from the hard drive.

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><p>Nighttime was best for him to travel. Daylight offered no comfort. A real life being, but with bionics that overwhelmed those he was around. Edan had learned to live with the fact that he would never be liked by the mainstream, a hideous monster, Frankenstein reincarnate, unacceptable. The same science both saved his life, but damned him forever to a life mostly of lonely moments.<p>

Walking under the moonlight wasn't so bad. He was able to relax, keep himself easy and the charged air of the beach he followed kept him awake. The quiet sounds of waves lapping at the sand. He had a thought to go into the water. Contributing factors often made impulsive ideas impossible.

"Why the hell not?" he said aloud, the sand grains crunching underfoot. He walked in cautiously up to his waist, then without hesitation lunged forward into the cold fluid. Needles in his skin, the feeling a refreshing break from the mundane of life. He reveled in the simply joy of fooling about, until a distinct sound of underbrush snapping caught his ear.

Frozen instantly, he looked with mechanical eyes towards, spotting a faint shadow slowing down. This time there was hesitation. Analysis of the situation saw only one outcome: run. Legs began to push through the inhibiting feeling of running through shallow water. Lungs into overdrive, confidence waning. He suspected he was being hunted, prey was not his style, but he was in no means to fend off any form of a predator. He turned to jog backwards, cupping claws around his maw.

"I've got friends," he lied, "And they'll mess you up!" he lied again, running off the beach and into the forest, disappearing.

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><p>"I feel stuck."<p>

"That's because you are stuck," Gennai confirmed, "It's no fault of yours dear. Being hard on yourself about it will only worsen the present situation."

"I guess," she said, looking over to a punching bag, "Might as well keep this body in shape."

"Life is as twisting as a mountainous pass," he reminded her.

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><p>Something felt off. The usual coffee shop a few blocks down didn't feel right. The air of sun and false glitz it strived to maintain was being inhibited. By what, Jorcy could not tell. The gut feeling followed him through the line.<p>

Green Tea Lemonade with two pumps of raspberry flavor syrup and a Perrier. Walking away from the barista didn't even feel right. She wasn't smiling as per usual, just a smirk. Not even his shorts felt right. Did he forget the baby powder? A thought over "no underwear" occurred, but luckily was stopped before his free hand reached down the front.

"Breaking news, we have reports of a sonic boom possibly caused by a piece of space junk re-entering the atmosphere, complete with a fiery trail in its…" the TV faded out as he noticed two men staring at him.

Although not uncommon, as after all, there are people of a certain friendliness in the world, but the plain clothing was an instant giveaway.

_These are dudes _not_ from California._

In fact, as he exited the store, Jorcy could've sworn he caught a glimpse of them standing up. A troublemaker in the past, thoughts of disgruntled parents crossed his mind. Not being of the sort to want trouble, he quickly made his way to the car.

"Excuse me!" one of them called out. Jorcy put on a pair of sunglasses, turning slowly. Only one was outside; good.

"Can I help you?"

"You dropped this," he said, presenting at $10 bill to him.

Relief.

"Thank you, want to keep it?"

"Nah, I'm good," he paused, "Say, you look familiar."

"Heh, you must have me mixed up with someone else."

"No really, you do. Someone famous perhaps?"

"Ever heard of Jet Black?"

"Racecar driver?"

"Yeah, I'm related."

"Really?" he smiled, "Well, thanks for confirming any doubts I had."

"You're welcome."

A sharp grab at the back of Jorcy's neck, dropping his drink to the ground. He was quickly placed into a headlock, inner-arm of the second man choking him.

"There's an ally right over there," one of them said.

"Sounds good," the second one gripping tighter around Jorcy's neck. His sunglasses fell off, his feet being dragged along the ground, unable to yell and towards the parking lot behind the shop; he did what only came naturally: teeth sunk into his captor's finger.

A cry of pain was answered with a punch across Jorcy's face. His mind now dazed, groggily trying to make sense with the world. The ground returned to his vision, his hands coming out to stop the fall. In a haze he could see blood dripping from his nose onto the asphalt.

"What the fuck?" he huffed.

"A message to Jet Black," one of them said, a distinct metallic click being heard as Jorcy rolled over, a gun drawn, "Stay out, or suffer the same."

Lowering and aiming, that was it. Jorcy put his hand up to stop him, as if it would work. The calm face on the man changed instantly, his hand dropping back to his side.

"Likewise," a new, scruffier voice came from behind. A rush of blue, red and yellow swooped down, a skewer of the right claw into the man's chest as he blocked a punch from the second man, catching it in his left three long claws, "A message from Gennai."

A slow turn of the right claw, the man gritting his teeth in pain before being released to slump to the ground. The creature promptly kicked the man to his left so viciously; he flew into the brick wall lining the alleyway, crashing through it, an audible _crunch_ signaling what had happened to him.

The creature now stood alone, back still turned on Jorcy, residual flame rising from its body, licking the air clean. Its blue form covered in various armor plates, covered with a flame pattern. A horn on its head, two distinct ear-like protrusions. A long tail. Those fearsome three long claws, light-distorting heat rippling from their center, the water around the creature evaporating into steam, cinematic.

Jorcy screamed, getting to his feet and flailing his hands in the air. So high were his strides of panic that he lost his balance and fell forward, sliding across the asphalt painfully. Getting back up, a commotion had began to form behind the coffee shop, which he quickly avoided by running around the edge of the gathering crowd.

Rounding the corner onto the sidewalk, nearly losing himself to the ground again, he fumbled about for his keys as he came up to his ride home: a new matte black BMW M3, a graduation present from Jet from a few years back. Although all appearances of a college student in such a high-powered, high-priced and highly-valued car would scream of spoiled trust-fund baby, Jet's open policy of "Earn your keep." and a high school GPA of 3.8 convinced him Jorcy was worthy.

He quickly unlocked the door with his keys, opened it and plopped inside. He looked up at the rear-view mirror for a moment of peace only to find himself covered in sweat, dirt and a trail of blood down his face from his nose. He started up the engine and pulled away.

On the opposite side of the coffee shop, the Flamedramon, who preferred "Flame" for its simplicity, was in a quandary. He would have to find a way to pursue Jorcy, but the outright reveal of himself to the public at large may not be the decidedly best course of action. But desperate times call for desperate measures, and a high-value target such as Jorcy Black, already finding himself in peril before Flame had even arrived outweighed the justification for stealth.

He bent down, the exertion of force from his legs cracking through the ground as he blasted skyward, a small amount of fire trailing behind him. Almost immediately he recognized the expected vehicle Jorcy would be driving from his high vantage point, the black car in view, he maneuvered himself to orient with a specific portion of the car.

Meanwhile, inside of the wonderfully decadent interior of the M3, Jorcy was losing his mind.

"What the fuck am I going to tell Jet? He's going to have my ass for breakfast when he gets back and he finds out that this happened."

As every adolescent does, planning began to find a way to disassociate from the incident. He wasn't at the coffee shop, obviously, as his youth does not afford him the ability to be up before…he looked to his watch.

A overpressure of air followed by the shattering of his passenger side window only furthered to rattle Jorcy's nerves, He cowered up against the driver's side, the creature now inside his car from it's waist up.

It shook its head to brush the sting off, a somewhat serious face looking up at him, "Hello."

Jorcy answered by flooring the throttle, the powerful engine rocketing the car forward, swerving to avoid cars crossing the intersection, Flame rattling where the window formerly was much like the Perrier bottle in the cupholder between the two.

"No!" Flame yelled, sinking a claw into the passenger's seat, tearing into the leather down to the chassis, "No! I'm here to protect you damnit!"

Jorcy, having none of it considering his morning drink stop ruined, continued to accelerate down the road to his house. Mildly annoyed at the beast ruining his seat, he picked up the bottle of fine French spring water and proceeded to swing at the evil.

"Out of my car! Off my car goddamnit!"

"You idiot!" it retorted, "I'm trying to help you out!"

The thought occurred to Jorcy: _This thing is hanging out the passenger side of my car, and there's plenty of cars, streetlamps and general obstacles off to the right side. Hmmm…_

A veer of the steering wheel and Flame had telephone poles, parked cars and other various pain inducing objects upon him.

"Damnit!" he yelled angrily, having to bend his lower body back up over him onto the roof, his flexibility on display. An errant street-sign sticking out from the rest, missed in the 100mph blur that was now the only way to view the world, pegging him right where it counted.

A small, high-pitched growl filled the car.

An alley shortcut back home was necessary, in this case. The realization in Jorcy's mind that racing away from a coffee shop where two dead bodies were at 100mph with a blue "thingy" hanging out your window…the cops had to be near.

The salty charged air of the beach house was sweetened with the fumes of exploded gasoline as he slowed, pushing the garage door opener, the metal folding in. Into the spot he always sat, another push of the button, the door unfolding itself. Key out and engine off, he sat back into the seat, a deep exhale leaving his lips. He closed his eyes, a moment of relaxation relieving him of the recent past.

"Hi," the creature sheepishly said, contorted with its top-half inside of the car, "Are you done trying to kill me?"

With a near instant reaction, Jorcy unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the car door and stood up all in one ungraceful motion. Not even bothering to close the door, the incessant _bong_ of the 'door is ajar' warning was the only thing left.

Flame carefully removed himself from the car's window, mildly upset that a certain dull pain thumped from below, "Oh don't worry," he said, clutching himself gingerly, "You'll get him back. You got yours, and one day, he'll get his."

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><p><strong>When in doubt, write in a groin shot.<strong>


End file.
